


Queen of Hearts

by makingitwork



Series: Stalker Hotch [4]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oversensitive, Pain, Punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1704068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer tries to escape.</p><p>Hotch punishes Spencer.</p><p>No matter how half-hearted the attempt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queen of Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> I like this series, if you have any ideas for it, please just prompt away!  
> x

"What did you do Spencer?"

"I- I tried to escape." Spencer cried as he was handcuffed and dragged into the shed, naked and shivering. It had been a half hearted attempt, but when he'd got the letters from the BAU, from Morgan, who told him how much he missed him, missed his babbling and his Doctor Who obsession, fuelled on mourning, Spencer had tried to run. And he had failed. "Please..." he wept, tears streaming hotly down his face "I'm s-sorry! I-I had to see..."

"Derek?" Hotch spat, angry, as he pulled out the gag and wrapped it tightly around Spencer's face, forcing his lips apart, making his jaw ache and catch on his teeth. "I know who you had to see," he delivered a sharp backhanded smack across Spencer's face that sent him falling to the floor, where Hotch tied his legs together so he couldn't move. "God Spencer," he delivered a sharp kick to Spencer's stomach, making him cough around his gag "You were doing so well." He shoved a vibrator into him, that would go off at random. And then he was gone. 

Spencer shivered, cold and alone on the rough floor that kept leaving red ridges along his skin, and then the vibrator went off, and he came with a shout, weeping in pain as it kept going. 

And then a whip fell from the ceiling, something he hadn't seen before and thrashed against his torso, and then another one fell on his back as he squirmed to move around, and he cried out in pain. 

God, he was so stupid! Trying to run! Was he out of his mind? Angering a stalker. He was better than that.

He doesn't know when he fell asleep, freezing, bleeding, and shaking from over-sensitivity, smeared in his own cum, crying.

...  
...  
...

Hotch lay in bed, alone, angry, frustrated. 

He missed Spencer's warm body, paper-coffee smell, and silky hair pressed against his neck, or his chest as they both gasp for breath. He looked out of the window to the shed, he could almost hear the whips coming down and sighed, he felt guilty, but he remembered the letter. He pulled it out of his drawer, to read again. 

""Spence, my pretty boy, keep holding out for us, okay? We're coming for you. You are not alone. I think about you everyday. I miss your stupid quotes and obsession with Doctor Who. I still record an episode for you every night, I've even taken to watching it. When you come home, we'll talk about the Daleks, alright? I think I'm finally starting to get them. Love, Derek.""

Hotch growled, he should have killed Derek when he had the chance. Stupid Agent Morgan. But he'd refrained, because it would upset Spencer so much. 

He tossed and turned restlessly, unable to get proper sleep.

...  
...  
...

3 days later.

Spencer had been given small amounts of water each day, enough to keep him alive, enough to keep him in pain. 

But after three days, Hotch came for him. 

He stopped the whips, undid the handcuffs, removed the gag, and forced him to drink water, which he just vomited up into the grass.

"Okay, okay, let it out," Hotch whispered as Spencer hunched over, throwing up his stomach lining on the cold day. The strong, green eyed man rubbed soothing circles onto his back. "Come on, you're bleeding,"

"I can't..." Spencer fell forward, legs weak and red "I'- c-c-cold."

So Hotch was carrying him bridal style into the house, shedding his own clothes, and helping them both into the large, steaming bath, covered with soothing, muscle massaging bubbles and jets as he placed Spencer between his legs, so the youngers back was flush against his chest. Hotch cleaned him gently, soapy and hot. Running his palms over each welt, soothing the marred skin. Spencer whined in pain "Relax, relax, Spencer,"

"Stings." He whispered as Hotch ran the warm water over his neck, Hotch massaged Spencer's brand of shampoo into his air, and then very gently pushing a finger into Spencer's hot, swollen hole. Spencer squirmed, trying to get away.

"I'm sorry," Aaron whispered, voice pained "The vibrator was too much. I shouldn't have done it." He bit back his own arousal, and rinsed Spencer off, before drying him with a fluffy white towel, sliding him into a pair of baggy sweat pants and a soft, cotton t-shirt. He laid him gently in bed, and covering him with the white sheets, massaging his shoulders, forcing him to drink more water, and then letting him sleep.

...  
...  
...

Spencer woke up suddenly, sitting bolt upright.

He looked around the empty room as the sunlight streamed in, his hair soft and sticking up. He was warm, warm, and his throat didn't hurt as much. He laughed, dryly with relief, Hotch had taken him back inside. He was okay. He was okay. He wasn't going to die. 

He jumped, barely stifling a scream when the bed dipped, and Aaron held his arm gently "Shh, shh, it's okay Spencer," And Spencer forced himself upright, still shaking. Hotch examined him for a moment, handsome face worn with worry. "Are you alright? Do you need a hospital?" 

"N-No S-S-S..." he looked down, swallowing hard "No Sir."

Hotch frowned again "You only have to call me Sir when I'm punishing you, and the punishment is over." He brushed his thumb thoughtfully over Spencer's eyebrow "I think it was too rough for you. You're too thin already," he held forward the plate he had in his hand that Spencer hadn't noticed was there. On it, was scrambled eggs, bacon, and warm bread and butter. "Can you eat?"

"My hands won't stop shaking," Spencer admitted quietly, looking down at his bruised arms. He ran a finger over a welt from the whip, where the skin had blossomed up. He couldn't help but marvel at how true to his word Hotch had been. These wouldn't scar.

"Okay, I'll feed you," Hotch nodded, cutting the bacon with the fork, adding on a bit of egg, and feeding it to Spencer, who took it gratefully, his body starving for food. And then Hotch tore up the warm bread, into tiny pieces so Spencer barely had to chew. After they had finished, Spencer was forced to drink a glass of orange juice, before Hotch tugged him out of bed, wrapping him in a soft blue robe to keep him as warm as possible. "We were going to go out today, but I think we should just spend the day in the library, yeah?" Spencer nodded, not able to hide his eagerness. 

...  
...  
...

6 hours later, it was late afternoon, the sun just begging to go down, as Spencer was curled up in an armchair, on his 3rd book, feet tucked up beside him, near the fire, and Hotch sat opposite him, typing away on his laptop, leaving the library only to get Spencer food and water. He was very good at aftercare, even offering a special cream if Spencer's back still hurt. 

So after the lanky brunette finished his third book, he set it down on his lap, looking across at Hotch, filling the silence with a question; "Who are you writing too?"

Hotch half smiled "You knew I was writing an email?"

"Profiler," Spencer smiled, Hotch nodded.

"It's just to a friend." Hotch nodded, looking back at his screen, the whole scene was far too domestic and Spencer pressed his lips together to avoid asking another question, but Hotch could sense his trepidation. "It's to a Doctor just south of Athens. I want to get you a brain scan done." Spencer shivered worriedly

"Why?"

"You're 26 Spencer, you know that schizophrenia could set in, I just want to get some tests done."

"And what if I am?" Spencer's voice broke "What if I am crazy, then what?"

"Then," Hotch said calmly, and his soft voice stopped Spencer from freaking out "I'll give you a choice. Stay here with me and I get you the best help I can, or you go back to the US, let your friends take care of you."

"I'd get the choice?"

"If, and only if, you were diagnosed." He didn't explain his reasoning, but continued typing. Spencer rubbed his palm over the hard cover o the book, over the ridges on the spine and said very, very quietly. 

"Can you cut my hair and style it up, for the appointment?"

Hotch smiled, a true and honest smile that made him look years younger "Of course, my love."

...  
...  
...

Hotch was very good at cutting hair.

As Spencer looked into the mirror, it was still curly and dark, and hung down into his forehead, but it was neater, and looked thicker, more healthy. Hotch then began styling it up, fingers applying a smooth gel, making Spencer's eyes look wider. Spencer then got dressed in a white shirt and blue tie, with a blue cardigan, doing up all the buttons, he shifted nervously as Hotch stepped out of the bathroom, ready to go. 

"Don't be nervous, alright? I'll be there the whole time. Remember, don't try anything stupid again, I didn't like doing it. But I will punish you,"

"Will she ask about the obvious signs of malnutrition?"

Hotch flinched as though he'd been slapped. Yes, Spencer was still malnourished from the 3 days without food, but Hotch had been trying his hardest, giving him extra vitamins, making sure he got exercise and extra meals. Sugar and wheat, things from every part of the food cycle, and he was only a it thinner than he had been before the whole ordeal, but he was still under the requirements. "You know a lot about diseases, make one up. Rare condition, nothing to worry about, you know how to regulate your diet to maintain it, but you've been stressed about this exam."

"Okay," he said quietly, taking Hotch's hand as they went to the car. He was handcuffed to the door again, and settled in for the ride.

...  
...  
...

"Nothing to worry about."

She'd said there was nothing to worry about. 

In a fit of joy Spencer had rushed out into the waiting room and hugged Hotch tightly, wrapping his arms around his neck and pressing his entire body against his, warm and plush. "Nothing to worry about!" He cheered into his ear. Hotch laughed, overcoming his shock at such a public embrace, and wrapped his arms around Spencer's waist, kissing his shoulder

"That's great, Spence."

An old woman cooed at the sight of them, and Spencer flushed, realising what he was doing, and pulling away "Yeah, she says I show no signs, the chances of me inheriting directly from my mother, while she abstained from taking any drugs during her pregnancy makes it highly unlikely I'd have inherited it directly." He cleared his throat, literally bouncing on the balls of his feet "Nothing to worry about!"

"Let's go home and celebrate," Hotch grinned, as they both stepped out into the Greek sunshine, and slid into the car.

Spencer's hand wasn't handcuffed.

But neither noticed, too busy discussing the definition of classic narcissism.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it?!  
> x


End file.
